


Her Lovestruck Soldier

by Smiling_Seshat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Mind Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:09:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8652199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smiling_Seshat/pseuds/Smiling_Seshat
Summary: Fleur uses her allure as a tool to get her revenge.





	

Ron knew it was hopeless, but he couldn't help it. He was in love. Every part of his anatomy felt swollen with devotion and awe. He spent all of his waking moments thinking of her, and he couldn't help staring at her hopefully, like a puppy devoted to its mistress. She was beauty, she was perfection and she was poise. She was everything men reached out for, and everything Ron could not have.

He needed to be near her like he'd never needed anything else. Only being in her proximity would make the ache in his heart subside. Vaguely, a part of him was telling him that what he was feeling was wrong, that something wasn't right, that he didn't even know her, but then he took another look at her and forgot all about his reservations, only preoccupied with her beauty.

He was sitting near Harry, thinking of the TriWizard Tournament and entertaining dreams of victory and the adulation of a certain girl. Brown, frizzy hair? No, his heart said, no longer. Instead each image was replaced with silver and blue. Every hint of brown, books and buckteeth was replaced with visions of her. It was like he was possessed, unable to control his base feelings, a victim of an imperio to his heart.

This infectious love was slowly growing, and soon it would reach his head, turning him into a slave to his desires, wholly focused on her.

And then, a miracle happened.

"Excuse me, as you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

It was like Merlin himself had deigned to offer Ron a bit of recognition and happiness.

He stared, entranced, at the beauty in front of him, ignoring all else.

"Yeah," Harry was saying, "have it."

And the girl spoke again, and her beautiful lips moved, revealing perfectly white teeth. Ron's mind blanked, and in that moment, had the girl asked, he would've done anything for her, just to get her to look at him.

"You 'ave finished wiz it?" was what the ethereal beauty said. Her hair was swaying gently with the movement of her head, reminding Ron of thin, sinuous white snakes.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was excellent." Ron had completely forgotten that seconds ago, he'd thought the bouillabaisse looked like the most disgusting cuisine he'd ever seen. Right now, he would eat the whole thing if it would please that divine girl.

A powerful sensation of euphoria had taken over his thoughts, and he couldn't think anymore. It felt like acceptance of someone better than himself. It felt like absolute submission. She was everything, and he would obey. It didn't matter that she belonged to another school, that it felt like he was betraying his school and Hogwart's future Champion. All of his loyalty to his House and to his school had been diverted. He would gladly set down his own pride for that woman, because in that moment, she was everything.

Whenever he'd thought of family in the past, he'd hoped for an intelligent, brown-haired wife, the one who always knew how to cheer him up. Despite her bossiness, he'd felt secure with her. He'd always imagined his children as brilliant like their mother and good strategists like himself. He'd play Quidditch with them, and be the ideal father.

But right now, faced with a silver-haired goddess, all of his hopes and dreams were pushed away in favour of the appearance of an all-consuming devotion. It was an obsession, and he was helpless to resist, like so many other males.

Ron watched her walk away, and his love grew. He would do anything for her.

-x-x-x-

Later, after the Champions had been chosen, Ron found himself wandering in the halls of Hogwarts.

Harry was going to compete! Of course, Ron felt a bit jealous, as his fragile ego tended to resent that fact that he was never first, be it in the family or amongst his friends. He was always second, or third, or even last. However, it was obvious Harry hadn't done it on purpose, and Ron trusted his friend implicitly. He knew that if Harry had sneaked around at night to put a slip of paper in the Goblet of Fire, he wouldn't have been able to resist telling Ron all about it.

Ron felt secure in the knowledge that this changed nothing of their friendship, and—

His brain stuttered to a halt as his heart registered a presence he knew well. He hadn't even seen or heard her yet, but he knew she was there, and she was coming.

He turned around, and his lips formed a smile despite his best intentions.

She was there.

(But what about Hermione?! Something was wro—)

His brain had turned to mush, and the euphoria was back, making him stand at attention. He couldn't think, only feel.

"Oh," she said when she turned a corner and caught sight of him. "You are 'Arry's friend, non?"

"Y-y-yes," said Ron, his pupils opening wide with desire. His tongue was too wide for his mouth, and too heavy for him to control right.

She leaned against a wall, and canted her hips up ever so slowly. Ron's eye unconsciously followed the motion.

(She's from another school! Where's your loyalty to Hogwarts! cried his brain. You should be off congratulating Harry and joking about him easily beating the competition!)

"You must…" she said slowly, her head moving to the side, revealing a slender, white neck, "… feel so betrayed zat he cheated his way in, without inviting you join too."

There was something wrong with that sentence, but Ron had trouble seeing past her utter beauty.

"Nah, Harry and I are best mates, and—"

"Really?" she asked. Her eyes were strangely hypnotizing, and in that moment, he knew he would forever love her, school loyalty be damned. "But you are jealous, are you not? And you do feel betrayed, non? 'Arry must not respect you, so why should you be nice to 'im?"

"Why should I be nice to him?" repeated Ron, his eyes focused on her alluring eyes. His legs felt like they'd give out any moment, and the thought of him on his knees in front of her felt (strangely) completely right.

"Oui," said the girl. "He was unfair, and so you must be unfair too, no? And you will hav' revenge by making 'im lose the Tournament, non?"

"Ngh—yes! I will be unfair to him, and make him lose," agreed Ron. "Anything for you."

(But why did it feel so wrong?)

The girl smirked, thrusting her chest out. Ron following the line of her body, each part of him, all of his anatomy longing to touch her.

"Yes," she said victoriously. "Anything for me."

And Ron was too far gone to understand what had happened.


End file.
